Cold Fusion
by mentalplayground
Summary: The 11th Doctor and Clara travel to the Ice Age and uncover a dastardly plot that threatens Earth's future.
1. Prologue

The sound of the TARDIS engines disturbed the morning calm, and the temporal winds whipped up a veil of snow as if hiding the materialisation process made it any less believable. Fortunately, the Doctor's scanner showed that nobody was around. That was, unless you included the small herd of Irish elks that seemed bemused by the blue box's appearance. He didn't count them, though. And that was all that mattered.

"What are they?" asked Clara, pointing at the screen. "Are they deer?"

The Doctor turned to look at her as though she had just asked him if Earth was a planet. It bemused him to think that this girl had only a few short weeks before not know what the internet was and yet she'd been allowed to look after children.

"Of course they are deer!" he cried, spinning on his heel unnecessarily and clapping his hands. It gave him confidence, the confidence to step out of a blue box that could travel through time not knowing what lay beyond the wooden doors. "These, Clara, are Irish elk. The largest species of deer to have ever existed."

"They don't look very big to me."

"Clara," the Doctor said, doing his best not to patronise her, "they are quite far away. Some of them could be over two metres tall!"

"If you wanted to impress me with animals you should have just taken me to a zoo." Clara folded her arms. "Why exactly are we here?"

The Doctor looked at her. "I offer you the chance of seeing one of the most beautiful creatures before its extinction, and you'd rather I take you to Sea World to watch a dolphin jump through a hoop." His voice was laced with disappointment. Even his hair seemed to flop that little bit more.

"Sorry," said Clara, realising that she'd offended him, "I just thought we were going to go somewhere..."

"Somewhere what?"

"A bit warmer."

The Doctor nodded. He'd thought that too. He'd pulled levers and spun rotating things in the hope of landing in the 17th century and showing Clara a dodo, but what he'd gotten was a different extinct species - but arguably a much more impressive one. It was clear to him that Clara didn't think so, however.

"I tell you what," he said to her, attempting to make the most of what was quickly becoming an awkward situation, "why don't we just have a look around. Ten minutes. If we don't find anything that piques your interest, we'll fly off in search of a planet a bit too close to its sun, okay?"

"Ten minutes?" Clara asked. "Why don't we just go now?"

The Doctor pulled on his jacket. He wasn't quite sure what to say. He knew the reason. He hated arriving in the wrong place, in the same way that you or I would be annoyed if we boarded a flight for Berlin and ended up in Peru. He, on the other hand, had it twice as bad. If you landed in Peru instead of London at least you'd still be in the same year, unless you were flying on New Year's Eve, of course. This was not the case for the TARDIS. You could aim for 1066 and end up in... well, anywhen. And it happened all too frequently. He'd gotten bored of it after the first five flights and vowed to himself that he would always explore the area that his ship had landed in. There were a few exemptions to this rule, however, such as if it landed facing a wall, or materialised in the heart of a volcano.

"Because..." the Doctor thought hard about a clever lie, but in the end decided to tell her the truth. "Because that would not be fun. You'll probably want a coat." He looked down at her skirt. It may as well have been a belt. "And cover your legs."

Whilst the Doctor and Clara had been talking, the herd of elk had slowly been making its way toward this mysterious object that had plonked itself in the middle of their grazing ground. They didn't like new things, especially things that they couldn't identify. The eldest elk, who had half an antler missing, decided to risk what remained of his life and limbs investigating this odd addition to the scenery. He sniffed it. He walked around it. He even dragged an antler along one side. He concluded, to the relief of the other elks, that it was a tree. Of course, as soon as the TARDIS door opened and The Doctor stepped out wearing a deerstalker the elk quickly realised it wasn't a tree at all.

"Clara," The Doctor said, surprised at how calm he was considering he was surrounded by almost fifty tonnes of prehistoric mammal.

"Yes?" called a voice from inside the TARDIS.

"I'm beginning to regret my choice of hat."


	2. Deer Stalker

Clara was still inside the time-and-space machine when she heard The Doctor shouting. She grabbed a jacket from one of the guard rails and flung it on, hurrying to the main doors as she did so. You could say many things about Clara, but you couldn't say that she wasn't a worrier. She cared immensely for the man who'd saved her from the Spoonheads, she snorted as she remembered their name, and wouldn't be without him for the world. Particularly as this meant she would have no way home.

She pushed open the TARDIS' doors to find the Doctor animatedly shouting at blurs in the distance.

"No! Don't throw spears at them! They're going to be extinct soon! Honestly..."

The last word was said more to himself than anyone else and, upon hearing the 'click' of the closing door, he turned to smile at Clara.

"You're just in time," he told her.

"In time for what?" she asked. She had learned from experience that asking him questions like "What's that?" or "Where are we?" put you into The Doctor's good book or, as he liked to refer to it, 'The Book of People I Can Impress'.

"In time to see some of the greatest hunters ever do what they do best."

"Hunt?" she asked.

The Doctor smiled at her again, but this time there was sadness in his eyes. He turned his back to her and gazed at the horizon. Clara walked over and took a position next to him. The barren wasteland, covered by a thin sheet of snow, seemed to stretch on forever though, if she squinted, she could just about make out a forest at the very edge of her vision. The Doctor noticed her struggling.

"Here," he said, and passed her a pair of binoculars that he'd fished out of one of his pockets. Gratefully she took them, and pressed them to her eyes. Three short figures brandishing spears were closing in on a lone elk that had somehow been separated from the rest of the herd. It was facing them and walking backwards; at any moment Clara was sure it was going to bolt for the trees.

"Why doesn't it just disappear into the forest?" she asked The Doctor.

"A couple of reasons," he said, not looking away from the action. "Though I think it's possibly because its antlers span such a great distance."

He wasn't wrong. Clara could see that the beast's impressive horns were indeed preventing it from making a getaway between the trees. She watched, transfixed, as three more figures emerged from between the pines, and began thrusting into the hind of the beast. It fell to its knees and only then did The Doctor look away.

"Terrible."

Clara wasn't too sure what to say. She wasn't even entirely sure what she'd seen. She decided to try and move up the 'People I Impress' list.

"What did I just see?"

"Look around you, Clara," The Doctor said, taking a tone of voice that let Clara know he had cottoned on to her gambit. "Why don't you try doing some deduction?"

"Alright." She looked around. "I see snow."

The Doctor nodded.

"And there were giant elks."

He nodded again.

"Which means we're somewhere cold?"

"I'm pretty sure the fact that we can see each other's breath gives that away," he said.

Clara finally realised.

"Are we... Have you brought me to the Ice Age?!"

The Doctor nodded for a third time, and sighed.

"It was an accident." He said. "I'd been aiming for Mauritius. I'm not too sure what I did wrong."

Clara wasn't listening. Her brain was doing the rounds now, and around every corner was a conclusion.

"Those hunters," she said, "with the spears. Were they... Neanderthals?!"

"Full marks."

The Doctor began to walk away from the TARDIS and toward the elk and Neanderthals that were, as Clara now saw, skinning it. She hurried to catch up with him.

"It looks very different in the movie."

"What?" asked The Doctor.

"You know," she said, conversationally, "Ice Age. That animated film with the sloth and the mammoth who-"

"Forgive me," said The Doctor, "for not having seen every film in the Universe, but I am sure that real life was going to be different considering that you used the term 'animated film'."

Clara couldn't argue with that point. She still felt uneasy though; something had to be wrong. Of course it did. That's why they were here. Even if The Doctor hadn't realised it yet, something was bound to be wrong. For a start, if this was the Ice Age, where was all the ice? This question was instantly refuted by The Doctor, indicating that an Ice Age was not defined by an entire planet covered in ice, but merely the fact that ice covers both poles. The Earth could be swamped with the stuff but if the poles were clear it would technically not be an Ice Age.

"Which is one of the many reasons people are silly," concluded The Doctor. They were crouched behind some boulders Clara hadn't even noticed until the Doctor had pointed them out to her; the thin layer of snow had concealed them almost entirely.

Clara peered over the top of the rock. It seemed as though the Neanderthals were just finishing up with the carcass of the elk. It was now devoid of almost everything, she could see clean bones where they had carefully picked away anything edible, presumably to be eaten later.

"This is remarkable," The Doctor muttered to himself.

"What is?" asked Clara.

"The way they go about things. There's no hint of 'do you mind finishing off this leg' or 'oop, you missed a bit on the flank'. It's wonderful to watch."

"It makes me feel a bit ill," Clara said.

"No," he said, without looking at her, "I don't mean the task, I mean the way they go about it, as though they know exactly what needs to be done without asking. They didn't even draw lots to see who got to keep the head."

"Is it possible they are using a telepathic field?" Clara asked, stealing a phrase he had used many a time before. This time he did turn to look at her. His face was full of scorn.

"Don't be silly," he said. "They communicate verbally, just like us."

He peered back over the rock. A group of Neanderthals peered back, their spears pointed directly at him.


	3. Meat and Greet

"Hello!" The Doctor said brightly. Clara rolled her eyes. There was a fine line between boldness and insanity she knew, but she was never sure just which side of the line The Doctor stood. He didn't know either. "My name is The Doctor." He proffered his hand.

Clara straightened up and saw the Neanderthals for the first time. They were just a bit taller than her, all of them male. They were... well, wide was probably the best way to put it and, judging by their arms, not a single part of their stomach would be fat. They were wrapped up tightly in thick animal hides, the species of which Clara didn't care to guess.

One of the Neanderthals retracted his spear. "Teeth," he said.

"I'm sorry?" The Doctor said.

The Neanderthal pointed at The Doctor. "Docker." He pointed at himself. "Teeth."

"Oh I see! It's your name!" The Doctor smiled warmly and gestured to Clara. "This is Clara, whom I travel with. We just sort of happened across the elk and thought we'd take a look. I hope we didn't scare you."

The rest of The Neanderthals still had their spears pointed at The Doctor and his companion, but it seemed as though Teeth was in charge and he ordered them to lower their spears with a simple. "No."

"Did he just say no?" Clara asked.

"One of the oldest words in the Universe," nodded The Doctor. He turned back to the huddle. "Now if you'll excuse us, we should probably be on our way."

He turned around with the intention of walking away, but was blocked by three more Neanderthals that had apparently been there since the conversation had started. They really were very good hunters.

"Follow," said Teeth.

"I suppose we don't have a choice, do we Doctor?" Clara asked.

"Not really, no." He brightened up. "At least we're going to see an actual Neanderthal settlement! I haven't been to one since..." He trailed off. "Well, I don't think I've ever been to one! I love trying out new things."

"Except soufflés, apparently."

* * *

Snow began to fall just as the party reached a cluster of huts at the foot of a cliff. A dim light flickered in the heart of the camp; Clara could see that The Doctor was disappointed by this.

"I suppose arriving just in time for the discovery of fire was a bit too much to hope for," he said.

"You know," said Clara, "You could just travel to the discovery of fire if you wanted to. You do have a time machine."

"I'd spend a lifetime looking for it though. It could happen anywhen. Anywhere. Well, not exactly anywhen - it's obviously already occurred, but you know what I mean." He stopped talking when he bumped into Teeth, who had halted.

"You eat?" asked Teeth, indicating the raw meat that two Neanderthals were impaling on sticks and roasting over the open flames. The scent of cooking steaks wafted around the camp, occasionally accompanied by a crack or a sizzle as the juices dripped into the flames.

"I've never had venison before," Clara told The Doctor. "Is it good?"

"I haven't the faintest idea!" The Doctor said cheerfully. Teeth sat down by the fire, beckoning for The Doctor and Clara to join him. A few other Neanderthals had also taken up positions around the flames and some of them, Clara noticed, were female. They looked similar to the males, though some wore leaves in their hair. One of them was considerably younger than the rest of the women in the camp, Clara guessed she couldn't have been older than 12. She was looking over Clara as though she were, well, as though she were an alien. Which, she supposed, she was.

Once everybody had taken a spot around the fire, Teeth began to talk. It had been hard to place his accent from just a few words, but Clara was still lost even as he spoke in full, albeit broken, sentences. She'd heard somewhere that Russian was a language without pronouns, but this language seemed to be lacking in pretty much everything.

"Now," Teeth said, in a low guttural voice. Clara had to praise his projection - you could almost mistake his speech for thunder. "Gods give men. Welcome. We sit. Eat. Sleep. Protect. Gods be happy. Thank."

"Thank," chorused the others.

There were a few moments of light discussion as one Neanderthal stood up and began to hand out cuts from the elk that they'd seen earlier. Clara turned to The Doctor.

"What did he just say?"

"I think," he began, "that they believe we have been presented to them by some Gods and that they must protect us while we are here."

"Perhaps they've asked their Gods for something and believe they shall receive it if they protect us for a while?"

"Perhaps," said The Doctor. He didn't add that he thought this highly unlikely. Unfortunately Clara noticed.

"So long as we don't end up as sacrifices!" She joked. The Doctor didn't laugh.

The pair of them were handed cuts of meat.

"Thank you," said The Doctor.

The man who had given him the food placed one hand on his chest and said "Smoke." The Doctor copied him. "Dok-ter?" parroted Smoke, trying to come to terms with the new sound. The Doctor smiled and Smoke moved on.

"I don't suppose they've invented silverware yet?" Clara asked, mournfully looking down at the lump of meat she'd been given. It smelled delicious, but she was wary of embarrassing herself. She even ate pizza with a knife and fork.

"I'm afraid not," said The Doctor, delving into one of his many pockets. He produced an array of cutlery. "Still, you should never go anywhere without a spoon."

Clara took the cutlery gratefully and dug in, savouring every mouthful. The Doctor had abandoned table manners and was excitedly digging his teeth into it, possibly in the hope of impressing this Neanderthal tribe, but all he was succeeding in doing was getting his neighbours covered in the bloody juices.

His companion couldn't help but notice that the Neanderthal sat next to The Doctor was slowly edging further and further away from him. She shook her head with pity and was about to take another mouthful of venison when a glimmer caught her eye. She looked up sharply and saw the same girl from earlier, huddled close to a Neanderthal that Clara had originally assumed to be her mother. She had hardly touched her meal, whereas everybody else's had massive chunks missing where they'd torn bits off with their teeth.

As she watched, the young girl lifted a fork of her own to her mouth and chewed.

* * *

After everybody had finished Teeth once again addressed the company.

"Now, name." He said. "Teeth."

As they went around the circle, each Neanderthal spoke their name and placed a hand on their chest.

"Branch."

"Tusk."

"Snow."

"Horn."

When it came to Smoke's name, The Doctor gave a little wave as he said it, which Smoke reciprocated. Teeth looked at The Doctor, who said "It's a greeting." Soon, all of them were waving at one another, and it took a word from Teeth to make everybody stop. Teeth pointed at the next person in the circle. This was the young girl who Clara had seen with the fork. Her name turned out to be Wool. The final two males were introduced as Rock and Wing, and then Teeth spoke up again.

"Welcome Docker, Clara, home. Sleep long. Next day see Gods. Must awake." He indicated a tent. "Sleep here."

"Why thank you, Teeth," said The Doctor. "Come on, Clara," he said, "apparently we've got a big day tomorrow."

He strode off into the tent. The Neanderthals rose as one and all headed off to individual tents, apart from the women who apparently all slept together. Perhaps it was one of their tents that had been sacrificed to provide comfort for the two strangers in their land.

As Clara made her way to the tent that she and The Doctor had been allocated, a rustle from behind her made her look over her shoulder. The face of Wool poked out of the female tent. Clara smiled at her. Wool smiled back and gave a little wave.

Later, Clara would think back to that moment and picture the smile. It was less a smile and more of a smirk. And that wave... it could almost have been a wave goodbye.


	4. Disappearing Act

Clara found The Doctor lying on some sort of rug once she'd ducked into the tent; his arms were folded across his chest and he was doing his best to tap his foot - a difficult manoeuvre when one is lying down. He didn't look over when she entered but she forgave him once she noticed that he was thinking. In her mind he didn't think often enough, seemingly only when they were trapped or resting. Or, in this case, both.

"Doctor," she began, hesitantly. "I'm worried about-"

"Me too."

"You didn't let me finish!" She said.

"You were going to say that you were worried about being sacrificed to these unknown gods tomorrow, but you need not. There is absolutely no evidence supporting Neanderthal sacrifices, so we're probably just going to meet some more intelligent beings. Perhaps even your ancestors!"

He sounded far too happy about this for Clara's liking. She lay down next to him.

"I thought Neanderthals were our ancestors?"

"No, no." The Doctor said, adopting his primary school teacher voice. "You evolved from homo sapiens idaltu. To simplify, Neanderthals are to them what chimpanzees are to you. Do you follow?"

"I think so," said Clara, "but I am still worried about the tribe."

"What about them?"

Clara considered mentioning the fork, but decided against it. The Doctor had already been far too patronising toward her today. She'd never understood the point of studying prehistory at school and couldn't see why dinosaurs were so fascinating in the eyes of children. They'd died out over sixty five million years ago after all. Then again, that was before she had set foot in the TARDIS. It was effectively a real-life history lesson with a teacher who got irritated if you kept asking the wrong sort of question. She decided instead to give a different answer.

"The way that they communicate... I wasn't expecting it to be so disjointed. Is the translation matrix faulty?" She could see from his smile that this was the right kind of question. He loved talking about his TARDIS. He'd probably taken her to show and tell at Time Lord school, assuming there was such a thing.

The Doctor shook his head. "No, the matrix is fine, it just doesn't have much to go on. The language the Neanderthals are speaking is very basic and is lacking a lot of words-"

"I'd noticed that much," Clara muttered.

"-such as prepositions and adverbs that make is sound very disjointed. It's simply because they don't actually have those words in their language yet. Like asking a Roman what a volcano is."

"So how are they understanding us if we are using all of these words that they don't have?"

The Doctor seemed to have been preparing for this question. "They are picking out words they understand and putting them together."

Clara thought back to the french exchange student who had stayed with Artie and Angie for a week. She had had a pretty tough time trying to understand when he'd been speaking french to Angie so sympathised with the Neanderthals.

"If I were you," said The Doctor, breaking the silence, "I'd get some rest. Tomorrow may be a long day."

"Or a short one," said his companion, closing her eyes. Next to her, The Doctor grimaced. Now was one of those rare times that he wasn't too sure which way this adventure was going to go. It was likely that the Neanderthals were just going to shift them on to their gods, do them no harm and then be allowed to go on their way, but at the same time it was odd that they'd even be brought to the camp if there wasn't an important reason for it. Still, he was firmly behind the notion that sacrifices were not what the Neanderthals had in mind. They could have easily overpowered them at the campfire over dinner, or marched them straight to the ritual spot. Perhaps there was something significant about tomorrow's date? He rolled onto his side so that Clara was behind him. She started to snore.

"Oh really, Clara," said The Doctor, "must you?" He nudged her slightly with his elbow but to no avail. He didn't want to wake her up just to tell her she'd been snoring - that would be embarrassing for both of them. Instead, he decided to go for a walk and hope she'd stopped by the time he returned. He found it hard to sleep at the best of times and now was no different. Carefully he stepped over her immobile body and pushed open the tent. A light flurry of snow hugged his face; he wiped it off with one hand and set out into the night.

* * *

He decided to head back to the TARDIS and do a little bit of research. Clara wouldn't miss him if she were fast asleep, and it wouldn't hurt to get a little bit of background knowledge on this particular area. He wasn't even too sure where they were. North Africa perhaps? Asia? He was so used to seeing 20th Century Earth that every other part of the planet's history seemed to meld together. There had to be a tell somewhere.

The light of the full moon illuminated the large number of footsteps he was following, the same ones that the group had left the day before when they'd marched back to the camp. It was almost a godsend that the footprints hadn't been covered completely, but the light snow hardly posed a threat, not when so many footprints had been left behind.

The Doctor stopped when he reached an area that had a pinkish hue to it. This must have been the spot where the herd of elk had grazed. All of the grass was now covered in a white blanket that stretched as far as the eye could see. There was no sign of the TARDIS. The Doctor made a mental note to make it a brighter blue. There was a slight chance that it was blending in with the navy sky, but this idea was refuted when he pulled out his sonic screwdriver and sent out a signal. There was no response. Obviously the TARDIS was out of range... but how was that possible?

Upon scouting the immediate area he made a discovery that caused him to shiver. Or shiver more than he already was, thanks to the cold. It was a square impression in the snow. No tracks led to or away from it. The TARDIS had just vanished. As though it had dematerialised all by itself. He did his best not to panic.

* * *

Back at the camp, Clara woke with a start but had no idea why. She couldn't remember dreaming, yet she was pretty sure she had heard a noise. She was just about to drift off again when she heard it. A snuffling sound that seemed to be getting closer and closer to the tent.

Clara rolled off of the furs and picked them up, edging toward the tent's entrance. If anything poked its head through she would cover it with the blanket. Right? The snuffling stopped and was replaced with a low growl. It sounded like it was coming from directly outside. She reached out with one hand and considered pulling open the flap but a voice from outside called "Who?"

She recognised the voice as that of Teeth and pulled open the tent's flap slightly. She could just about make him out by the light of the dying fire, he was stood up outside his own tent, a spear clutched in his hand. He was looking around the camp with narrowed eyes, his hunter's instinct telling him something was wrong.

A shadow darted past the fire, the sudden rush of wind extinguishing what remained. With snake-like reflexes Teeth threw his spear at the shadow but missed; his spear stuck in the ground. Clara could not see where the creature had gotten to, but she was sure it had not run away. Teeth cautiously made his way around to the other side of the fire, gripped his spear with one hand and pulled it out of the earth. He looked around again and began to walk around the firepit. He stopped in front of Clara's tent and she cursed quietly. She couldn't see anything past his bulky frame.

Then she heard the growl again, closer than ever before. A pair of red eyes opened inside Teeth's own shadow. The creature pounced. Teeth toppled over as the snarling monster tore into him. He didn't even have time to cry out and Clara covered her mouth to prevent herself from doing so and give herself away. She had to tell The Doctor. She turned around and was about to nudge him awake when she noticed that he wasn't even in the tent.

She cursed again. Where had he gotten to? She crawled back to the tent's entrance and looked outside. Both the creature and Teeth's body were gone, but a trail could be seen in the snow where it looked like Teeth's figure was being dragged away. In that moment Clara made the decision to follow, but not before leaving a message for the Doctor. Hopefully he'd read it when he got back. She pushed open the tent flap and stepped into the crisp air. The path in the snow led directly toward the cliff-face. She hoped that she wouldn't have to do much climbing; her shoes would hate her for it.


	5. Lost and Found

It was dawn by the time The Doctor returned to the camp and already it was a buzz of activity. There was a lot of shouting going on and the Neanderthals all seemed to be looking for something. Or someone. Or several someones. Ah. They looked over to him in almost perfect unison as he re-entered the camp; a very spooky effect. He cast a wary glance at everybody. Something was wrong, he knew, they were missing someone. It was highly unlikely that they would care so much about him and his companion so...

"Where Teeth?"

A bulky Neanderthal strolled right up close to the Doctor and pressed his almost flat nose right up against The Doctor's, who couldn't help but stumble backwards.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

"Where Teeth?"

Teeth... Teeth... Then it came to him.

"Oh! Teeth! Has Teeth gone missing?" He began to talk quickly as Tusk began to stride towards him again. "Well it couldn't have been me, I mean, I haven't been here all night, I went to find my ship which has also conveniently disappeared so if you could stop breathing right up against my cheek that would be lovely."

Tusk, The Doctor remembered his name to be, pondered this for a moment, trying to pick out words that he knew. Eventually he backed off.

"Thank you," said The Doctor, wafting a hand in front of his face. "They need to hurry up and invent toothpaste." He cast his eyes around the camp at all of the sad faces, of which there were many. It seemed that Teeth was quite a popular character in the camp; Tusk was only one of two people who didn't seem to be missing him. The other was a young blonde girl who was sat by the fire just staring into the embers.

"Who was the last person to see him?" The Doctor asked. Nobody responded. "Come on," he urged, "Somebody must have seen him."

"Not after sleep." Tusk said. "He go tent. Sleep. Wake. No Teeth."

The Doctor thought this over. "Is it possible that he was attacked by an animal overnight?" He immediately rebuffed this thought. If the camp had been attacked by a predator it would certainly not still be in the state it was now. "May I speak with my companion?"

There was another stoic silence. Once more The Doctor looked at each of the Neanderthals' faces, then realised what they were all trying to tell him.

* * *

Out in the wilderness, Clara's feet were aching. She was about fifty feet up a stone stairway that had been cut into the seemingly sheer cliff. A most useful tool, she thought, and not something the Neanderthals were likely to have done. They were not built to climb, and had no need to. Which meant, she grimaced, that there was something else here. She hoped it was friendly but then friendly things introduced themselves to you with a shake of the hand and a 'how are you today' and did not rip out your throat and drag your body away.

She reached up to the next ledge and, using what strength she had, hoisted herself onto it. She spun herself around so that her feet dangled over the edge and panted for a short while, admiring the view. It really was tremendous. The snow had stopped part way through the night and as far as the eye could see it lay evenly across the ground, like a newly lain tablecloth. Off to the west, judging by the sunrise, the same herd of Irish elk were grazing and below her was the camp; she could see everybody running around - presumably they had discovered Teeth's disappearance.

She turned away from the view and, for the first time, noticed the cave that was right behind her. She had no idea how she'd not seen it the first time, though that could just have been because it was massive. It took up almost the entire side of the cliff lengthways and was about seven metres high. It arced over her like a miserable rainbow, dripping occasionally from one of the several stalactites that adorned the entrance. She cursed herself for not having a torch or something to light the way with but, peering into the murky gloom, she could see a flicker of what could only be fire deep in the heart of the cave.

She braced herself and took a few steps inside.

* * *

"Why do they never stay put!?" The Doctor said aloud, behind him Tusk and Wool shared a look. It had been clear from the start when they'd each first seen him that he was crazy, and the best thing to do with an insane person was to cure him, yet they couldn't help feel that he knew exactly what he was doing. A madman who skips merrily through life without a care in the world for his own safety, and for some reason that didn't help them relax at all.

The Doctor had asked for two things after he'd read Clara's message, painstakingly scrawled in the snow, presumably with her finger, a companion and a chat with Wool. Nobody seemed willing to accompany The Doctor to the cliff, but then nobody particularly wanted to meet the gods again.

"And why is that?" The Doctor had asked. Wool motioned something with her hand that resembled a claw and gnashed her teeth. "They bite?"

She seemed very reluctant to talk which was not something the Time Lord was used to. He was pretty sure she could talk, but preferred not to. Maybe she didn't like her voice. Or had a sore throat. Not that either of those things stopped The Doctor. Tusk, the strongest with a spear in the camp, had agreed to accompany The Doctor on the condition that he did not meet the gods and, upon questioning Wool further through a combination of speech and charades, The Doctor had learned why.

They had come to the area four moons ago and ransacked the camp, taking a couple of Neanderthals as they did so. They seemed to be able to create fire without the aid of wood and Tusk, who had been on watch at the time, had been humiliated. Teeth had bargained safety from the gods, but at a cost of one person a moon. This moon they had sent no-one, so the gods came for him. Tusk did not want to be taken.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder at the resolute figure of Tusk, clutching his spear so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. It must have taken something incredibly powerful to scare this male, who could probably take down an elk alone.

Eventually they reached the cliff and stopped.

"Where now?" asked The Doctor, feeling the edge of the rocky surface. Wool took his hand and placed it on a groove. She pointed upwards. "Oh." He said. That was going to be a long climb.

* * *

The dripping was really beginning to get on Clara's nerves. She felt like she'd been in the cave for an eternity, and she was still no nearer to the light. She was running three fingers of the left hand along the wall as she carefully made her way along, she couldn't see the right wall at all. And then, just like magic, she was at the fire. It crackled and hissed as water dripped into it, but there were no other sounds.

"This isn't right." She said aloud to try and calm herself down. "Someone must be maintaining the fire; they don't just burn by themselves." She walked around it and peered into the blackness beyond the light, but she couldn't see anything and didn't want to risk getting lost. Besides, she told herself, The Doctor should be on his way by now. I'll just wait by the fire and-

The thought was abruptly stopped when she heard a stone skit across the floor behind her. She turned around sharply - a little too sharply, falling to her knees and lifting a hand to her neck which had cracked loudly. Above her, a shadow with bright red eyes lunged for the place where her head should have been. Clara stood up and started to run further down the passage and into the pitch black of the cave. Behind her she could hear the scrabble of claws and a snarl as whatever demonic creature had tried to attack her righted itself for another go.

She didn't have time to pause and think about what she was doing, she just hoped that, like her, the creature was unable to see very well in the darkness. It made sense to her; the creature had made a fire to see by, after all, but she couldn't risk stopping.

Her foot snagged on the floor and sent her tumbling to the ground. She let out a cry of pain before she could stop herself; her knee felt like it was on fire. She rolled over to try and get up and had to stifle herself before she could exclaim again. Three pairs of red eyes were watching her from the ceiling.

One pair detached itself from the roof of the cave and landed with a thud on the floor.

"Doctor!" Clara called.

Another pair landed on her other side.

"Doctor!"

She backed up until a third thud echoed around the cave. She felt herself press up against something leathery that she hoped beyond hope to be a sofa. Slowly she turned to look. Below the pair of red eyes that looked back a pair of jaws opened and showed off a menacing collection of teeth.

"DOCTOR!"


	6. Running Out Of Time

The Doctor clambered onto the ledge, one hand clutching onto the rocky outcrop, another to his beloved sonic screwdriver. Only now were the cries fading away and he was sure that it had been Clara's voice. It had to be. The cave that lay before him was hastily examined and, according to the sonic, was 'dark and ominous' - not exactly what he had hoped. Tusk was the next to pull himself onto the ledge and, with a grunt, hoisted Wool up too. The two hadn't said a word since they'd started the climb so The Doctor had no way of telling whether they had a problem with heights or just had a problem with him. He was sure that one of those was true, however.

"We go in?" Tusk asked in his broken language.

"Yes." The Doctor said, determinedly. "But not before we get some light."

He produced a box of matches from one of his pockets and proceeded to light it, shoving the rest of the box back into the depths of his jacket. The flame flickered and spluttered in the wind but seemed determined not to be put out - much like the Time Lord himself.

"Danger?" asked Tusk, flexing his muscles. He'd somehow managed to bring his spear along - he seemed inseparable from it.

"Probably, yes." The Doctor looked at Wool, who looked away. She still hadn't said a word since he had first met her and he was becoming more and more suspicious as time went on. At first he'd thought it may just have been because she physically couldn't speak, but now it seemed more like reluctance - and anybody who was reluctant to talk was probably hiding something. "Come on."

The three of them made their way into the cave. It smelled horrendous, and something was oozing on the right-hand wall. It was lime green in colour and dripped every so often into a puddle of it on the floor. The Doctor, noticing, went over to examine it. He pulled out the sonic but, when it didn't give him a reading of any sort, he dipped a finger into it and sniffed. It was definitely emitting that smell. Without really thinking about it he straightened up and wiped the substance on Wool, who proceeded to scream and run off down the passage, her arm smoking slightly.

Tusk roared and rounded on The Doctor, his spear wafting dangerously close to his chin. "WHAT YOU DO?" shouted the Neanderthal.

"I... I don't know!" The Doctor stammered, thinking quickly, "it didn't have any effect on me, you saw it, I just thought it stank of... I don't know what! And I just wiped it on her because, well, it was sticky and I don't particularly like sticky stinky things stuck to my stuff!" He paused for breath, trying to gauge what Tusk was thinking. It seemed as though he thought The Doctor was making sense, or enough sense to be kept alive for now or perhaps he would feel bad killing a rambling idiot. Warily, he returned to the goo that was collecting on the floor. The trail of it seemed to go on forever, certainly as far as the eye could see in the darkness. He tried sonicking it again, but no cigar. The screwdriver seemed resolutely confused.

"We have to get after her," said The Doctor. Tusk nodded but didn't lower his spear.

"You lead," he said. The Doctor nodded and began to make his way further down the tunnel, still using the match to see by. Eventually he came to a fork in the passage. "Hmm," he muttered, "which way... which way..." Tusk motioned with his spear to go left, but The Doctor decided against it. "I'm sorry," he said, "but this goo," he scooped some up with a finger, "is leading down the right-hand path. I'm sure it's leading somewhere."

He was right. After only a few more minutes of walking the tunnel had opened up into a giant cavern, the likes of which Tusk had never seen before. He dropped his spear and sank to his knees, forehead pressed against the ground. He was murmuring something that The Doctor could not quite make out, but he was too busy to worry about that. He was busy admiring.

The room was full of light, for a start. Green torches adorned the walls, giving off an eerie glow that reflected in the metalwork of the spacecraft that lay before them. The heavily damaged, badly smoking spacecraft.

"Beautiful," The Doctor said, awestruck, "A forty-sixth millennium warpship, probably overloaded itself, trying to arrive here. It's very far from home. Well, fifty five millennia or so. Incredible workmanship. But why on earth would somebody want to travel to 8,000BC - on Earth of all places?"

He never got a chance to think about that question, ask Tusk had hit him over the head.

* * *

Clara opened her eyes and found herself chained to a rock which, she thought, was probably the most uncomfortable thing you could be chained to - except maybe a hedgehog. Part of it was digging into her back and, upon trying to wriggle away from it, she felt it dig into her a little bit more and a soft trickle of something run down her spine. Great.

The once silent cave now seemed to be a bustle of activity, air stirred and claws clicked. There were definitely creatures somewhere nearby but she couldn't see them at all. Staring back down the tunnel revealed nothing, except that there was no light at the end. She couldn't even tell if it was a straight line, or if it curved at any point. Then a thought struck her. What light was she seeing by? There hadn't been any light in the cave, except for that fire, and there wasn't a fire around here now - besides, she thought, everything seemed just a little too... green. She turned her head, which was about as far as she could move in the manacles, and saw a torch with a green flame embedded in the wall. The effect would have been very impressive if she hadn't also seen a shadow with white teeth and red eyes cock its head to look at her. She resisted the urge to call out. Something told her that that would not be wise and would probably result in her being knocked unconscious again. Or worse.

The muscles in her neck begged for her not to look that way any longer and she complied, her head falling so that she was once again staring down the barren passageway. There was a crackle, or possibly a crunch from her right hand side. She didn't dare look around. Then there came a voice. A soothing voice, one that she'd heard a few times before. Dentists used it. It was the voice that promised it wasn't going to hurt but still got out the very very long needles and big rotating drills.

"If you don't struggle," it said, "you might even survive!"

Clara could contain herself no longer. "Doctor!" She shouted again. "Doctor!"

And, almost like a response, she heard footsteps approaching from down the tunnel, hasty ones. As though someone was running towards them. There was a hiss from beside her and the sound of the claws grew fainter.

"Doctor!" Clara called again, almost sighing with relief. A shape was emerging slowly from the darkness. It wasn't The Doctor at all.

"Wool!" Clara said, shocked. "Where's The Doctor?" It was only then that Clara noticed that something was wrong. "Where's The Doctor?" She asked again, this time far sterner. Then she noticed what was wrong. Wool only had one arm, the left shoulder was smoking slightly, although that was now fading away to reveal... a stump. It wasn't even bleeding, Clara thought, or even fleshy, but reptilian. Leathery skin coated it and, as she watched, it began to slowly grow out again. Wool appeared not to have seen or heard Clara, as she had her eyes closed and did not react at all, but she slumped to the ground and cradled the stump that had already grown down to the elbow.

As the regrowth finished, Clara's eyes widened at the sight of the brown elongated fingers that now adorned the young girl's left hand. Wool opened her eyes for the first time, presumably because the pain was now bearable, and seemed to notice Clara. She smiled that brilliant smile, before shaking her arm. It was pale again.

"Clara."

Wool's voice did not suit her at all. It was strong, powerful. The kind of voice that could give orders and have people obey without hesitation.

"Who are you?" Clara asked, before rephrasing. "What are you?"

"I," said Wool, getting to her feet again, "am Queen Idryss. And I," she threw her arms out and, for a moment, seemed to be nothing but a shapeless cloud of black gas with a pair of red eyes, "am a Krillitane."


	7. Table Manners

"You're a what now?" asked Clara, unsure of whether to be scared or amused. The transformation effect had been impressive, and yet the creature that now stood before her resembled a sort of upright crocodile, except with much longer spindly limbs that looked ridiculous next to the jaws and snout of the beast.

"A Krillitane," Idryss snapped, before turning her back on Clara. "I apologise for not speaking earlier-"

"Oh, no need," Clara said hurriedly, unsure of what to think. She had been attacked by these creatures only minutes ago, and yet here the queen was, apologising to her about not saying hello.

"-but I have not yet mastered the art of Neanderthal speech," she continued. "It was clear to me that you and your 'friend'," Clara winced at the emphasis Idryss put on the word, "were not of this time."

"And neither are you."

Idryss smiled. "No. My clan and I crashed here about four months ago. We've been integrating ourselves ever since."

Clara thought about this. "The gods..." she began. "Are your kind the gods that Teeth spoke of?"

"Indeed," Idryss said, almost with a hint of regret, "A few of my brothers are..." she waved her hand airily for a while, as though rummaging in the darkness for a word, "...less patient than myself. They ransacked the camp as soon as they found it; halved the populus. Terrible. I decided to stay with the people who remained just to be sure that they were safe."

"That's very kind of you," said Clara, rattling the chains that bound her to the rock. "Now if you'd like to do another kind deed I would be very grateful."

Idryss laughed a terrible laugh that sounded like the screech of car tyres. "Aha, I am afraid not. We need you, Clara."

Clara hesitated. "What for?" she asked, dreading the answer.

"Information."

"Well that's not too bad," Clara said. "I was afraid you were going to say 'experimentation' or something. Information is much easier. I don't really know much about history though."

"Do not worry," Idryss said. "It's not history that we are interested in."

"Then what is it you want to know?"

Idryss walked forwards until her snout was almost pressed up against Clara's face. She did her best to recoil, but could only manage to turn her face away from the hideous jaws that were level with her eyes. There was a clink and a clatter as the chains that had once bound her fell away. Clara massaged her wrists.

"Well, that's much better," she said, and collapsed.

Idryss removed a claw from Clara's waist and examined it. The sleeping agent had worked much faster than she had expected. Conquering the planet Luanda really had been a good idea.

* * *

The Doctor came to strapped to a table by a series of thick cords. A bright light shone above him that flickered occasionally. He attempted to reach into his pocket for the sonic screwdriver before realising he was no longer wearing his jacket. It had been flung onto a particularly damaged console, all flashing red lights and smoking pipes.

There didn't seem to be anybody else in the room which, as he turned his head to view the other side of it, appeared to be the flight deck. It was a large area, with several black leather seats at various positions, presumably for all of the various roles that needed to be filled.

"No wonder you crashed," he said to himself, "you'd need about ten people to safely navigate the time vortex in this thing."

"You know of this technology?"

Okay, so perhaps he wasn't alone. The voice had come from directly behind him, one of two places in the room he couldn't see. It was a gruff voice. A familiar one.

"Tusk?"

The Neanderthal walked around to stand in a place that his prisoner could actually see him.

"You hit me!"

Tusk shrugged his shoulders. "You saw too much."

"What were you expecting me to see?" The Doctor asked. "What was down the other passage?"

"Clara." Tusk said, simply.

"Oh." The Doctor thought for a moment. "Why am I strapped to this table?"

"Orders." Tusk said, turning his back to the Time Lord and flicking a switch on the wall. All of the main lights went out, leaving only the flashing one that was trained on The Doctor and the blinking ones on the console flickering away.

"Something tells me that you aren't a Neanderthal."

Tusk looked over at him. "Is it the spaceship?"

"It's a combination of things," he said. "Firstly, the spaceship; secondly, your new sentence structure; and thirdly, the fact that Neanderthals probably didn't have a word for spaceship."

Tusk thought about this. "You've got a point there."

"So what are you, Tusk?"

The Neanderthal guise disappeared in a hiss of smoky vapour, to be replaced by a somewhat sheepish bipedal crocodile thing with long arms and legs.

"Ah." The Doctor realised. "You're a Krillitane."

Tusk nodded. "You know of us?"

"I've encountered your kind before; on Earth about..." he strained to check his watch, "ten thousand years from now. You were trying to crack the Skasis Paradigm."

The Krillitane laughed. "You certainly know a bit about our mythology."

"Mythology?"

The being formerly known as Tusk laughed again. "Next you'll be telling me that you met Lassar the Fool!"

The Doctor had been about to respond with a sentence starting with 'Actually,' but a door behind Tusk slid open to reveal the form of another Krillitane which had a body slung over its shoulder.

"Clara!" The Doctor shouted. "What have you done to her?"

"Relax, Doctor," Idryss said, closing the door behind her, "she is only unconscious."

Clara was carefully positioned in one of the chairs and left to doze. The Doctor, however, was still uncomfortable.

"Why does she get a chair?" he asked.

"Because," said Idryss, "I did not realise that you and Tantell were in here."

"Tantell?" The Doctor caught on. "Tusk. Right. Yes. And your name is not Wool, I assume."

"I am Queen Idryss," said Idryss, taking a position next to Tantell and blocking the door. "We have a few questions for you, Doctor."

"Well," he said, giving up at trying to make his back ache less, "I'm not exactly going anywhere. Fire away."

"What are you doing here?"

The Doctor thought back. It had never occurred to him just how often he arrived somewhere, only for something mysterious and downright dreadful to happen meaning that he forgot the real reason he had arrived in the area in the first place. He decided to go for the answer that was probably true.

"It was an accident." He said.

"You let yourself be captured by Neanderthals," Tantell said, "Why? You have a fully functioning spaceship of your own. You could easily have escaped."

"It's always nice to meet the locals," The Doctor began, "Well, usually. Sometimes. Not very often, actually. I probably should stop; it's a terrible habit I know, but I'm a sucker for biting my nails too, and I'd much rather give that one up first." He paused for breath. "How do you know I have a spaceship?"

"Two of our scouts found a blue wooden craft out in the middle of the wilderness. It's certainly not the technology of this time because, well, this time doesn't have technology."

The Doctor conceded. "Yes." He said. "I have a spaceship."

"It also travels through time." Idryss remarked, continuing before The Doctor could interject. "It's quite plain to us that you and your 'friend'," she stressed the word 'friend' again; the Time Lord didn't bat an eyelid, "are not of this time, in the same way we are not - yet your craft seems in perfect condition."

The Doctor said nothing.

"We can therefore assume," Idryss said, beginning to pace, "that you have the secrets of time travel."

"You didn't come here on purpose then?" The Doctor queried. He wasn't particularly fond of Krillitanes. They were a species that only seemed intent on satisfying their own selfish needs, and yet there was something about these two that made them seem almost upset about where they were. Still, he concluded, people are much more likely to help you if you don't knock them out and tie them to a table before asking for their assistance.

Idryss stopped her walking and cast a critical eye around the flight deck. "You think this craft would be in this state if we had wanted to come here?"

"Where was your original destination?"

"Is it important?" Tantell asked, somewhat harshly.

"Well, if you are intending for me to help you fix this craft and send you on your way to wherever it is you wanted to go, maybe." The Doctor said. "I'm not in the business of assisting murderers; and one of your number murdered Teeth."

"It was an accident." Idryss brushed off the comment as though it were dust, "one of my scouts arrived in the camp to tell me about the discovery of your machine - and Teeth saw his true form. He had intended to knock him out and remove the memories from his brain but..." Idryss sighed, "he got a little carried away."

"Why couldn't he just have made himself appear to be Neanderthal, like you do?"

Idryss tutted. "It takes a lot of power to conceal our true forms, Doctor. The only power source we have is inside this ship - and there isn't much power left. It's a good thing you came by; we've only got about fifty hours before this ship is unusable."

"You still haven't told me where you were planning on going," The Doctor said.

"I can tell you," said Clara.

Everybody turned to look at her.

"They were planning on coming to Earth."


	8. Keep Your Friends Close

"They were what?" The Doctor snapped, turning to look at Clara. She was sat with one leg over the other and her arms folded, reclined into her chair with a smug smile plastered over her face. "And how long have you been conscious?"

"About two minutes or so," she said. "Thanks for noticing."

"I'm sorry," The Doctor said, "The Krillitanes were stealing my attention."

"Understandable. What are Krillitanes anyway?"

"Krillitanes are conquerors. Predators. The ultimate in adaptability too."

"Oh?"

"They take the best parts from wherever they invade."

"Kind of like the British did."

"I suppose so, only they tend to take physical aspects, like the long limbs you can see, or the jaws... and zoom off to find something else to 'borrow'."

"Less like the British then."

"When you've quite finished," Idryss interrupted, "I'd like to refute Clara's statement."

The Doctor shut his mouth. It didn't pay to be rude to queens or captors. And it paid even less to be rude to people who were both. Clara, on the other hand, seemed to care less for her safety.

"I don't think there is any way you can possibly refute this statement." She indicated a reader on the console she was perched by. The Doctor peered over at it. The reading invariably read 'EARTH'.

"That reading," said the Queen as she approached Clara, "would be the current location."

"Oh." Clara pouted. "That explains the timer next to it reading 00:00:00..."

"We were, in fact, trying to get to the Lonhi System." Idryss said.

"Any particular reason?" The Doctor asked. "There isn't much in that system, as far as I am aware. One star, three planets and eight moons..."

"Then you have no reason not to help us, Doctor." Idryss said.

The Doctor struggled once more, as if to make a point. Idryss laughed her harsh laugh again.

"Except your bonds, yes. Let me." She undid them. "I do apologise for the way you have both been treated," she continued, "but we couldn't have you escaping us."

"You told me you wanted information." Clara said, pointing a finger in thought at Idryss. "Information about what?"

"Time travel." It was the first thing that Tantell had said in a while, and Idryss gave him a look that The Doctor guessed meant something like 'you're supposed to let me do all of the talking'.

"What about it?" Clara asked.

Idryss sighed. "We'd like you and The Doctor to help us repair the ship or, failing that, take us to where we want to go in your own time-space machine." She gave an inquisitive look to the Time Lord. "Does that seem fair?"

The Doctor was sitting up and making a few last minute adjustments to his crumpled clothing. He smoothed off his jacket and straightened his bowtie. Clara noticed he had not replaced the deerstalker. "Right then," he said, clapping his hands, "let's get to it."

* * *

Down at the Neanderthal camp, things were getting restless. It was clear to Wing, the elder of the tribe, that the best way to go about the past few day's occurrences was not to panic or get angry. Unfortunately Branch, who was currently in charge, had a more physical attitude to life. In a sense, Branch had been Teeth's wife and his disappearance had certainly left a hole in her heart; but it was a hole that she had quickly filled with anger and rage at the Gods who had taken him from her. It was her executive decision that the Gods should pay for the things they had done - and she was the one who was going to make them do so.

Wing peered out of his tent. He was a coward by nature. It's how he had lived so long. He had seen many leaders come and go in his many winters, and all of them had had the same fury and drive that Branch, Teeth and those that had come before them had had - right up until a wounded animal had decided it had nothing left to lose. He watched on as Branch finished her speech. Though 'call to arms' was probably a more appropriate phrase. She was shouting at them, one fist clenched and thrust into the air, and the other members of their tribe were doing their best to match her anger and enthusiasm. Even Smoke, the cook, had a spear in his hands. Wing let go of the tent's flap and settled in the centre of the skin that covered the floor. Maybe, if he ignored them, they would leave him be.

* * *

There was a soft 'boom' from underneath the console that The Doctor was working away at, and he rematerialised with soot covering his face, waving away the vapours trying to force their way up his nostrils.

"That didn't work," The Doctor said, giving his screwdriver a menacing look. "Are you wanting to get us both killed?" The device didn't reply, so he slapped it against the palm of his hand.

"Is everything alright?" Idryss asked Clara. She was busy twisting dials in a box on the wall, Clara had no idea why but The Doctor had told her to, so she was.

"Oh, he tends to get angry at machinery," Clara said. "You get used to it after a while."

The engine bay itself was compact, to say the least. It had room for the engine... and not much else. It was a squeeze trying to fit all three of them in there, but Clara found that if she squished herself into the corner of the room, The Doctor had enough space to get underneath the machinery and have a poke around, whilst Idryss could do what he told her and still be able to watch Clara and make sure she didn't escape. Despite the fact that her companion seemed to be very much the one in control, she could not force out of her mind the idea that they were still prisoners.

The Doctor had scoffed at the idea that Clara be left in the company of Tantell and Idryss had had no choice but to let her come along - she couldn't risk losing the help of the Time Lord, after all; nobody else in the immediate area would be have sufficient, or in fact any, knowledge of warpships. She didn't know much about them herself, save for the fact that they were ships. And they warped.

"There!" The Doctor's successful cry came from underneath the engine. "Try twisting dial 5B to 80% and then pressing the button below it." Idryss did so. Nothing happened.

"Nothing happened." Idryss said.

"Are you sure you twisted dial 5B?" The Doctor asked, emerging once more.

"Yes."

"Hmm." The Doctor paused. "Perhaps the fault isn't here then. I was sure..." He stopped, shook his head as if to clear it, and carried on. "I was sure the engine was malfunctioning. Is there any way to see the outside of the vessel?"

"Only the exposed parts you saw before, Doctor." Idryss stated. "The other side is completely encased by falled rocks and debris."

"Then we have no way of telling where the problem lies." The Doctor looked almost reluctant. "Fuel injection, fuel exhaust, overheating, warp drive..." with each one he raised a finger. "They're all fine. It must be the engine..."

"What do the other dials do?" Clara asked.

"What?" said The Doctor and Idryss simultaneously.

"You told her to twist 5B. What about dials 1 to 4?"

Idryss thought about this. She looked at the dials in turn. None of them were labelled, save for the numbers and letters engraved above them. "I don't know."

"Could we..." Clara hesitated.

"Try them?" The Doctor cut in. "No. Ridiculous. Preposterous. Unthinkable." He gave her his cheekiest grin. "But it just might work."

* * *

Tantell was in the cargo hold when the power came back on. There were growls from around him, some clawed at thin air, their eyes unaccustomed to the seemingly blinding light that filled the space. He got to his feet and addressed his brothers. They listened intently, their eyes growing wider and their jaws seemingly lengthening with the more he said.

When he had finished speaking, the silence was almost deafening. He stood as a commander upon a box whilst they all milled about, awaiting their first order. Then it came and, as one, the horde of Krillitanes set off. The hunt had begun.

* * *

"Thank you very much, Doctor." Queen Idryss said. They were back on the flight deck and the Queen was flicking switches, not really paying any attention to the time travellers.

"The pleasure was all mine." The Doctor smiled at Idryss' back. "Now, I think we'll just get go-" he stopped. "What am I saying? We can't get going. You still have our TARDIS."

"Yes." It was now that the Queen turned around, red lights flashing on the console. Red lights.

"Um," Clara said, "I don't know much about spaceships but red flashing lights are generally a bad sign."

The Doctor had noticed too. "Are you sure you can fly this thing?" He asked.

"Fly?" Idryss laughed a high-pitched screech. "Why would we want this heap of junk?"

"To get to the Lonhi System," Clara remembered. "You said-"

"I lied."

"But you asked us for information," Clara said, "Information about time travel."

"Yes."

"Clara," said The Doctor, compassionately, "They didn't care for our words."

"What?" Asked the girl.

"They cared for us. They wanted to learn about us. Time travellers."

"I don't understand." Clara said.

"We are time travellers, Clara," The Doctor said. "But you are far more important than I am in this case. You are a time travelling human. These Krillitanes are from far in your future. By the time they were born, humans have spread across the galaxies and systems and are making their own homes on a thousand million planets - and they are all adapting. You humans are, like you said earlier, Krillitanes. You leech the best parts of any civilisation and use it to improve your own. What better race to conquer for the Krillitanes themselves?"

Clara stood, shocked.

"But what I don't understand," The Doctor continued, addressing Idryss "is why you came to the Ice Age. What do you have to gain from here? Humans haven't even evolv-" he stopped. Idryss smiled her toothiest grin yet. "That's why you're here. To take the root before it becomes a stem."

"Consider it weeding." Idryss said. "The roots of the dandelion are much more important than the petals. All we need to do now is find your ancestors..." Idryss pressed another button. The doors to the flight deck slid open and the rest of the Neanderthal tribe was dragged inside by Tantell and the rest of the Krillitanes. The Doctor counted about twelve of them.

"...and here they are!" Idryss cried. Tantell walked determinedly over to Clara, who backed away quickly, but not quickly enough. He grabbed her by the throat.

"Clara!" called The Doctor, starting to run over to her, but he was restrained by two Krillitanes who had grabbed him from behind. Idryss picked up a device that, to Clara, looked dangerously like a taser and pointed it directly at her. The screeching laughter of Idryss, Queen of the Krillitanes, filled the flight deck... then everything went black.


End file.
